


All's Fair

by FreyaOdin



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humor, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 16:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11361237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreyaOdin/pseuds/FreyaOdin
Summary: It’s subtle, in the beginning. A shady comment here, an inappropriate joke there. Mitch glancing down at Scott’s junior year boyfriend’s body with a “are you sure you can…handle Scott? He’s a big boy.” Scott advising Mitch’s prom date not to be intimidated by Mitch’s far greater experience.It’s kind of like a sport, except they’re far better at this than they’ll ever be at sports. A game, then.  A contest.An all-out war.





	All's Fair

**Author's Note:**

> @caesarlester (of twitter and wattpad) had the idea that the screencap below from Superfruit's Imaginary Parties video looked like a movie poster. I wholeheartedly agreed and we started joking on twitter. Er, here. Have the basic plot of a cheesy gay rom com in 1300 words. Thanks to @fannycub (of twitter) for bringing the poster to life and to @silentdescant (of twitter, wattpad, and AO3) for the beta.

  

It’s always been like this, in a way, ever since they were kids. It’s just gotten far worse since they grew up and became roommates.  Which is both hilarious and fucking infuriating.

Scott doesn’t even remember which one of them started it. He wants to blame Mitch, but he has a sneaking suspicion it might have been him. Or maybe both at the same time. Who knows?

It’s subtle, in the beginning. A shady comment here, an inappropriate joke there. Mitch glancing down at Scott’s junior year boyfriend’s body with a “are you sure you can…handle Scott? He’s a big boy.” Scott advising Mitch’s prom date not to be intimidated by Mitch’s far greater experience.

It’s kind of like a sport, except they’re far better at this than they’ll ever be at sports. A game, then.  A contest.

An all-out motherfucking war.

**John**

They’re in their shitty NYC dive of an apartment for only three weeks before Scott has a date pick him up there for the first time. The guy is ten minutes early—which, what the fuck?—and Scott is still in the bathroom futzing with his hair when he shows up.

Mitch gets the door.

Scott doesn’t know what set him off. If John…Jeff?...no, John said something rude or if Mitch just didn’t like the look of him, but Scott walks in just as Mitch says “It’s so nice of you to agree to date Scott even with, you know, the _thing_.”

“The thing?”

Mitch gives an exaggerated grimace and waves his hand in a vague circle. “The, like, the test results.”

Scott and John do go out that night. But dinner is awkward and stilted and no one’s invited back to anyone else’s place.

“That was fucking mean,” Scott say when he gets home. At nine-fucking-thirty. PM.

Mitch just _looks_ at him and then turns back to his Netflix. “Anyone who isn’t interested just because of an unknown test result is the one that’s fucking mean.”

Scott hates when Mitch has a point.

**Antoine**

Something about Antoine just rubs Scott the wrong way. He’s handsome, Scott will give him that. And he’s polite and his accent is attractive. But he stares at Mitch’s ass just a little too hard. And he’s a little too smarmy when he flirts. And his hair flops into a disheveled but precisely curled mop just a little too easily.

He’s fucking annoying.

“So have you picked a date yet?” Scott asks when Mitch goes back to the counter to get the gluten-free biscotti he’d managed to resist the first time.

“Quoi?” Antoine asks.

“For the wedding?” Scott smiles wistfully, spins his coffee cup around on the table.  “Mitch has already narrowed it down to two dresses. He’d look beautiful in either one, of course, but he just can’t seem to choose. I’m trying to talk him out of the orange suit for my Man of Honor outfit though.” He looks Antoine up and down. “It’d probably clash with anything you could pull off and that just seems rude.”

“We’ve only been on three dates..?”

Scott nods. Smiles again. “Longest relationship of Mitch’s life.  I’m so happy for you guys. Wait until his Mom gets hold of the planning, though.” Scott’s smile turns rueful. “Yikes.”

Antoine gets an “emergency” phone call about three minutes after Mitch gets back to the table and is never heard from again. Scott claims innocence but the salt that’s in his coffee for the next month suggests Mitch doesn’t buy it.

**Levi**

Levi is sweet and shy and is taking math at NYU because he’s smart as fuck. He’s petite, fits under Scott’s arm just right, and his smile is absolutely beautiful. Scott’s been taking it slow because he doesn’t want to scare him off. And by slow he means just kissing and cuddling and keeping him the fuck away from Mitch.

It doesn’t last. Nothing ever does.

“Oh my god, imagine running into you here!” Mitch says as he plunks himself down on the picnic blanket Scott’s spread out in the park. “You must be Levi.”

Levi smiles politely. “I am, yes.”

“Mitch,” Mitch says, sticking out his hand and shaking Levi’s hand forcefully.

No good will come from this. “Mitch,” Scott says, well aware that he’s already fucked.

“Scott.”

Levi looks between the two of them. “It’s nice to meet you, Mitch.”

Mitch puts a hand to his chest. “Oh my God, he’s precious, Scott. Did you train those manners into him or is he a natural?”

“Train?” Levi asks, obviously confused. “Natural?”

“Mitch,” Scott says again, more forcefully this time.

“Submissive, sweetheart. Scott likes his boys polite.” He makes a show of looking at Levi’s neck. “No collar yet, huh? Has he even tied you up?”

“He…” Levi swallows. Hard. “Tied me up?”

“Like Fifty Shades, honey. Scott’s a real life Christian Gray.” Mitch lowers his voice and leans in. “Don’t let the restraining order from his last sub scare you, it was all a misunderstanding.”

Levi, somewhat understandably, stops returning Scott’s calls after that. Scott doesn’t talk to Mitch for an entire week.

**Jaylen**

Jaylen is hot. Manly. Hairy. A bro in every way that counts. Scott’s a little surprised that Mitch goes for him, actually, except then he sees his abs when he’s working out and it all becomes clear.

He’s also the biggest neat freak Scott’s ever met. Not that Scott or Mitch are slobs, per se, but neither of them straighten their pencils out in a row by size, and Scott doesn’t go through as much hand sanitizer as Jaylen in a year, never mind a day.

Jaylen is spraying his glasses to clean them for the third time since the movie started.

“You seem very germ conscious,” Scott says.

Jaylen winces. “It’s a bit of a thing for me, yeah. I’m working on it. Mitch has been very understanding.”

Scott nods sympathetically, then pauses like he’s just had a thought. “Gosh, how do you deal with the whole peeing thing?”

Jaylen freezes. “Peeing thing?”

“Yeah.” Scott shifts in his seat, laying his arm across the back of the couch. “Mitch can fake it for a while, but he just can’t seem to come without watersports. It can be tricky for some guys to get used to, but you must be really cool with—” He stops as a look of horror crosses Jaylen’s face. “You haven’t got there yet have you?” Scott winces dramatically. “Oops.”

“Where’d Jaylen go?” Mitch asks a couple of minutes later when he comes out of the bathroom.

“Something came up.”

Mitch stares at him for a long moment. “I fucking hate you.”

“Noted.”

**Mitch**

It’s a stupidly, ridiculously, preposterously long time before Scott twigs to what the real driver behind their game is.

“Nothing to say?” Mitch asks, in between sticking his tongue down Scott’s throat and unbuttoning his shirt. “No dead parrots that need to be consulted? No hints of bodies in the backyard? No jokes about the size of my dick?”

Scott, meanwhile, is yanking Mitch’s t-shirt over his head and pulling his pants over his hips. “I can joke about the size of _my_ dick, if you like. Because trust me, you’re not prepared.”

Mitch starts in on Scott’s jeans once he’s mostly naked. “I can work with whatever little you’ve got, baby. I don’t judge.”

“Hilarious.” A quick hook of an ankle and a push and Scott tumbles Mitch onto his bed. He bounces twice. Sprawls out invitingly. Scott shucks his pants the rest of the way off and crawls on top of him. “So no more cockblocking?”

 Mitch licks his lips. “You thinking of sticking it anywhere else?”

Scott watches those lips and has a few thoughts about where he can stick it, but none of them qualify as ‘anywhere else’. “Nope.”

Mitch smiles and rolls over to find some lube. “Then it’s a truce.”

Truces, it turns out, are far more fun than wars.

**Thoughts?**


End file.
